Proximity Theory
by Summer Sunrises
Summary: "Who was the idiot who left the ambrosia out with the mortal food? If you didn't already know this, you're an idiot. Whoever you are." The Heroes of Olympus are all living together in a comfortable yet cramped apartment in NYC as they make it in college. This is a story of inappropriately timed whiskey, psych papers, and Nico preferring Hell to Trig. Percabeth. Some Nico/Will
1. The Loft Heroes

**Hey everyone, so happy to be back after a long, _long_ break from FF. As I've matured, I've come to look back on my previous works as, ah, well... not great. Sub-optimal, one might say. So I'm hoping to revamp my image with a new story like this one :). Reviews are incredibly appreciated! Let me know if you think this should be a multi-chapter fic or if I should keep it as a one-shot, I'd love to hear thoughts! I was thinking about doing a whole series of these as a story about the Heroes of Olympus in college/NYC, but I like the ending to this so much I'm not sure... Let me know!**

 **Enjoy, and happy reading!**

* * *

"Okay. I'm not going to say anything to Annabeth, and no one's going to get in trouble, but…"

These were the first words that Nico registered Percy saying as he regained consciousness from his mid-afternoon nap on the couch. Groggily, he forced himself to pay bleary-eyed attention.

"Who was the idiot who left the ambrosia out with the mortal food? If you didn't already get this, you're an idiot. Whoever you are."

A melody of shuffling and opening/closing of drawers led Nico to believe that Percy was rectifying the situation, albeit reticently. Percy was never one to enjoy household chores, even ones so minute as redistributing ambrosia.

Shifting his attention, Nico ignored the cricking in his neck in order to look across the room, where he found Jason and Frank playing cards. If facial expressions were any indicator, Jason seemed to be losing spectacularly. He was alternating between Latin and Greek swear words.

Nico's focus was drawn back to Percy as the older boy looked down at him with a bemused expression. "Don't you have homework to do, dude?"

The son of Hades grumbled in response. "Meh. Can get to it later. Nap now."

Percy's responding eye roll was more felt than it was seen.

"Jut get on it before Annabeth gets home."

Nico meant to respond in a begrudging affirmative, but with his face stuffed into a pillow, it more closely resembled "Muh-fuh-neh-huh."

 _"Vlakas!"_

Apparently Jason was still losing valiantly behind him. Nico smiled into the couch cushion. Percy's use of the word "home" did not go unnoticed.

It was a year and a half after Gaea had been defeated that the Heroes of Olympus congregated in order to put a deposit down on a mid-sized loft in Lincoln Center. Now, you might be thinking, _What?! How the Hades can eight teenagers afford a loft in Manhattan?_ The answer is quite simply, really: the Olympians needed to repay their children for saving them from utter destruction — again — somehow. In lieu of invitations to become immortal, the Heroes decided it would be more suitable to ask for donations toward the Cost of Living in Manhattan/Close to Olympus is Ridiculous Foundation. Proceeds went towards eight poor, misunderstood demigods just trying to make it in a big city like New York. Touching family story, really.

All in all, what they ended up with was a sum so large they could all split an astronomically priced apartment in the heart of Manhattan and still store some away for college.

It was one of those few and far-between times in which being a demigod — or Greek hero in general — actually paid off. Go figure.

So there they were almost a year later; center of the city, good proximity to Mount Olympus, and most of them making their respective ways through college.

Just as Nico was re-waking up from his nap and pulling out his Trigonometry homework (being two years younger than the majority of your college-age friends meant Trig, AP classes, and lunch periods. Great.), he heard the jingling of keys in the door and prepared himself for another inhabitant of the loft (Leo had taken to calling their group the "Loft Heroes" because of Jason and Percy, both of whom had done the whole memory-loss-camp-switch-a-roo thing. No one laughed except for Leo. Excessively.). In walked an exhausted-looking Annabeth, followed by Leo and an equally exhausted-looking Piper. Piper beelined it for her boyfriend and greeted him with some sort of affectionate full-body slap that was received by the son of Jupiter with an, " _oof._ " Nico quirked an eyebrow. _Girls._

Leo seemed fine, though. So there was that.

Annabeth proceeded to toss her messenger bag onto a nearby coat hook and plop herself down onto the closest possible seat. This, unfortunately, happened to be the couch upon which Nico was currently residing. He pulled his legs down onto the floor quickly in order to avoid them being sat on by the daughter of Athena. Subsequently he watched as she blew a piece of hair out of her face with a _puff_ and let her head drop dejectedly into her palms.

Nico, again, quirked an eyebrow. "Long day?"

"The longest, ever." She replied, head still in hands. The sound was muffled initially but Nico got the message. It was a head-in-hands kind of day.

Annabeth was a sophomore in the Architecture and Design school at NYU, paid for overwhelmingly by merit scholarship money instead of the squirrel fund the twelve Olympians had provided them. Just, you know, because she was Annabeth. Along with that, she was still in the process of redesigning Mount Olympus because of the destruction Luke/Kronos had done to it almost three years before. Her design process had been a little derailed by the whole _Gaea_ thing and the sudden disappearance of her boyfriend of four months.

Speaking of Percy, where was he? Nico was pretty sure that wherever Annabeth was at any given point in time, Percy would most likely be trailing about four feet behind. Usually he was looking for monsters that were — or weren't — going to jump out of thin air to attack them. Other times he was just confused and wandering behind her as she gave him direction on where they were going. The son of Hades blinked in a moment of great self-reflection. _How on the Gods' green earth did I have a crush on that boy for more than three seconds?_ The thought made him shudder. Percy would spend most of his days walking continually into walls like an out-of-control Sim if it wasn't for Annabeth. The two demigods were made for each other.

After their plans for New Rome had fallen through (Not enough respect for Minerva. Too much Latin. _Way_ too far from Mount Olympus.), Percy and Annabeth had redirected their dreams back to the Empire State and worked out their plans for education.

Well, _Annabeth_ had.

Getting Percy to commit to a four-year college was about as easy as herding Apollo's sacred red cows with both hands tied behind your back and blindfolded. So, not at all. He had laughed outright at the possibility of joining Annabeth at NYU, citing the fact that _with my track record and GPA they'd sooner accept me into the University of Tartarus_. Columbia was the same way, Fordham was a no-go because of something to do with the Jesuits and his mom's side of the family never getting along (?), and Pace was "barely even in New York City." He had compromised with CCNY's Oceanography program, joined the swim team to fully regain his trust in water, and was fully content to lose a race every now and again to lower suspicion about his abilities. Although in his words, _if an Olympic scout happens to see me at school and give me his card, I'm not going to say_ no. Annabeth whacked him good for that one. He never joked about it again, but Nico was pretty sure he was still thinking it.

Nico looked over his shoulder to where Piper was leaning her head on Jason's shoulder, muttering incoherently about research papers on cognitive dissonance and its effects on hamsters or something ridiculously serendipitous like that. Nico rolled his eyes. _Psych majors_.

Annabeth stirred next to him. "Please," her voice was hoarse, like she had been yelling orders at freshmen in group projects all day, "please tell me there's some leftover Pad Thai. Either that or ambrosia. Someone feed me ambrosia until I spontaneously combust and die."

Well that wasn't going to happen. Annabeth was the one who signed all of the lease paperwork. She earned a few laughs, but mostly just concerned looks. Nobody was sure which one she was going for.

"What was the project today?" Asked Frank. He and Jason had both received athletic scholarships to Fordham College Rose Hill; Jason for track, Frank for football. The daily trek into the Bronx was grueling, but being able to choose classes with priority helped them settle in.

"A dome. A fucking _dome_. I'm not sure if these are sophomores in high school or college, because my group members obviously do not know what they're doing."

"Or," chimed a new voice entering from the stairs to the loft, "maybe you're just a million lightyears ahead of everyone else because you're just that good." It was Percy. Annabeth's tired look seemed to soften when she looked at him. Instead of seeming world-weary like she had a minute ago, she now just seemed sleepy. It was so blatantly cute Nico almost projectile vomited onto his textbooks.

Annabeth, for her part, seemed placated. "They should still know how to make a Gods-forsaken _dome_ …"

Percy grinned as he walked up to the couch and planted a kiss on her forehead. Piper cooed from across the room, which clued Nico in on the fact that the Percy and Annabeth Show was being watched by most everyone in the apartment. Creepy or cute? Tune in later to find out.

Annabeth smiled groggily at her boyfriend.

"You need to stop working yourself so hard, Wise Girl."

"Yeah, well, if someone else wants to volunteer to design Olympus' new garden for Artemis while I'm doing my 3D design homework, be my guest." There were no volunteers. "Until then, I'm going to go draw up some plans." This seemed like a task more daunting than fighting Arachne, if you judged by Annabeth's face. She looked downtrodden by the amount of work she was doing, and Nico felt a sudden pang of guilt as he thought about all of the responsibilities she held within the house. Annabeth, however, was obviously more focused on current things: she got up from the couch, stretched, groaned at the strain on her sore muscles, and made her way toward the her hovel/studio in the loft. But she didn't make it more than a step before her boyfriend gently took hold of her arm, almost pleadingly, so she would turn to look at him. It took her a while to look at him. Nico wondered what she was so fixated on; it was the loft, and she was looking at it like she looked down at the pit to Tartarus. Nico was left wondering how bad her stress levels had become lately. Percy looked at her imploringly, as if to say, _don't work too hard or I will be taking extreme and unwanted measures to stop you_.

It was such a private moment that Nico was sure he wasn't the only one that looked away.

By the time he looked back, Annabeth was already halfway up the staircase and Percy was staring at her retreating form. While many might find this concerning, Nico often caught there two gazing at each other when they thought no one was looking. They were drinking in the fact that the other was there, as if they might dissolve and float into the wind at any minute. He knew that neither of them took for granted the fact that the other was present, unharmed; safe. Often times he knew it was hard for them to believe. Those were the times when he could see the dark cloud that Tartarus had left sitting idly over them; the memories and scars that neither the two of them nor he himself would ever be able to scrub out of their minds. He used to feel jealous that they had had each other, while he was stuck in hell alone. He and Percy had fought about that once, a screaming match that lasted a full day. The loft had almost been forced into sides, Nico versus Percy, but thankfully they were able to resolve it rather quickly; because, in reality, they knew there was nothing to be said or done that could make the pain of the memories go away. The two of them ended up closer than they had been before, and the issue was never brought up again.

Percy was still standing where he had been when Annabeth walked up the stairs, muscles taut, as if ready to either fight or run up the stairs to drag her back down. Nico was pretty sure it was the latter. He knew that Percy struggled with how much Annabeth overworked herself; especially in the wake of the war against Gaea. There wasn't much he could do, but when there was something to be done, Percy was the only one she would listen to.

Perhaps Percy was thinking the same thing, because his shoulders relaxed and he himself dropped resignedly onto the couch as if mentally exhausted from the small exchange.

Jason was the one to finally break the silence with a call up the stairs. "Still up for Pad Thai, Annabeth?"

A resounding grunt of agreement was the only reply he got. The son of Jupiter chuckled and walked over to the fridge to prepare her the leftovers.

There was a moment of contented quiet in the normally bustling apartment. So, naturally, Leo had to come barging in and ruin it. He entered the common area from his room toting a handle of Jack Daniels in one hand and his bluetooth speaker in the other. "It's finally FRIDAY, bitches!" He bellowed. Nico could feel a migraine coming on; it would be a doozy. "Let's turn the _fuck_ up!"

Piper burst into a fit of giggles, while Jason just rolled his eyes. Percy cracked a grin but all the same stood up to take the handle from the smaller boy's hands.

He paid the son of Hephaestus no mind as the boy protested angrily. "No JD until you're done your homework for the weekend, my man. House rules."

Leo's mood deflated like a pathetic, yet somehow endearing balloon. "But—but—"

"No buts, man, it was a condition to Chiron even letting up stay here. GPA of 3.5 or above."

Leo turned the music down and mumbled something along the lines of "fine, dad" while closely resembling a small, scolded child.

This made Percy blanch and then redden in embarrassment as if someone was tampering with the thermostat on his face. "Stop calling me dad, dude! Hephaestus is _literally_ going to blast my ass into dust with some sort of workshop tool!"

Piper and Leo had taken to calling Percy and Annabeth "mom and dad" because of how paternal the two had gotten since moving in together. Annabeth found it amusing, but for some reason it freaked Percy out to no end. Nico speculated it was because the boy had never been responsible for anything in his life. Well, it wasn't even like he was incredibly worthy of responsibility at this point, because Nico was sure that he would own no clothes if Piper didn't shop for him and would consistently forget to even buy groceries if Annabeth hadn't made a chore chart for all of them (Nico was on laundry duty because he was the only boy that didn't wig out washing panties. It was like they wanted him to constantly roll his eyes, he was sure of it.)

Anyway, Piper had even gone so far as to comment "dad" on all of Percy's Instagram pictures, which confused and alarmed him. Everyone else — Nico included — thought it was hilarious.

The situation progressed with Percy chasing Leo around the living space in an attempt to discredit his paternal title and Leo was combatting him by yelling the word "dad" in as many languages as he could think of ("Padre! Paterfamilias!"). Nico chose then to grab his lighter and proceed to fish out the joint he had rolled earlier that day from his hoodie's pocket. He saw Frank raise an eyebrow at the small object but when confronted with Nico's middle finger in response, his hands went up in surrender and he went back to studying his playbook.

Just as Nico was about to light up, he heard a _ping_ from his phone. He wrestled with the device before finally managing to turn it on, and seeing that the text was from Hazel. His anger melted.

 _Will be home later on tonight because my lab is running late; sorry! Save me some food, please! Love you, Hazel_

Nico had to grin at the formality of her texts. Perfect grammar, signature at the end. How very 1940's.

He glanced over to see Frank smiling down at his phone as well, meaning he had received a similar message from his girlfriend.

Relaxed, Nico sighed and let himself fall back into a lazy position in the couch and held the end of his Zippo up to the tip of the joint. He would have to get as many puffs in as possible before Percy slapped him upside the head and threw it away.

It was good to be home.

* * *

Later on that night, after Nico had become a drowsy, lethargic presence in a room of drinking half-bloods and all of the apartment's residents were drifting off to sleep, he again found himself on the couch. Opposite him in a love seat were Percy and Annabeth, with whom he had just been discussing dates for their return to camp. He knew the both of them were anxious to get back to counseloring. He understood. If Nico though of Camp Half-Blood with half of the fondness that those two did, he would never want to leave.

Annabeth was residing in Percy's lap after a few glasses of wine. She seemed a bit more relaxed. Although, in fairness, that could be attributed in large parts to her current closeness to Percy.

As her eyes drooped down for the third noticeable time, Nico watched as Percy patted her leg fondly to get her attention. "Alright, Wise Girl," he whispered, "time for bed. Come on."

Annabeth nodded dazedly and moved to get up, but Percy held fast onto his grip of her and instead picked her up in the same way one would a bride over the threshold to her new home. If Annabeth was surprised by this, she didn't show it. All she did was snuggle closer to Percy's chest and yawn softly as he looked down at her, eyes sparkling.

He addressed Nico. "Alright, man, we're headed up. Don't stay up too late."

Nico nodded silently and tipped his empty glass toward them in acknowledgement. Percy seemed satisfied with this. He padded up the stairs to his and Annabeth's shared room as quietly as he could.

Nico began to think about the old proximity theory someone had told him about some time ago. That if you spent enough time with someone, eventually you would develop romantic feelings for them, or something like that. He clicked open his phone to look at his home screen — it was a picture of himself and Will Solace, sitting next to each other at some dive bar in Brooklyn. Will had insisted upon the photo. Nico, surprisingly, had relented.

He smiled at the picture softly and closed his eyes, lost in memories.

Maybe the theory was half-right. Maybe he saw these people as family because they lived and acted like one. But maybe not. Maybe it was the other way around.

Will was always better at philosophy than he was, so Nico resigned himself to not knowing. He'd bring it up with him in the morning.

* * *

 **There you have it! Sorry for any typo's here and there; the story is un-beta'd. Anyway, please review whether you think I should continue with these! I have a few ideas; a monster attacks one of the seven, Calypso comes by, Annabeth has a stress breakdown (we saw the beginnings of that here), drunk!Heroes, etc.**

 **Thanks so much, and please review!**

 **-Summer Sunrises**


	2. Drunk Heroes and Sloth Frank

**Hi, all! I know. I'm the worst. It took me such a ridiculous amount of time to write this and edit it and be happy with it, but... here it is! Drunk!Heroes in all of their glory.**

 **Sidenote: the beginning with Percy and his lab partner was supposed to be a filler scene before we got back to the apartment, but I thought it would be really interesting to explore the idea that Percy is super inept with social cues from girls and (as much as we all hate to admit it) is not a perfect person: he hurts people sometimes, just like the rest of us. The true test of his heroism is how he feels afterwards.**

* * *

If there was one skill that Percy Jackson decided he needed to develop, it was the awkward finger-gun exit from an unwanted encounter.

He was a jack of all trades in combat and widely revered in the Demigod world for his extensive and diverse battle knowledge. But making a painless escape from any sort of social setting? Forget it. Give him an _espousa_ to fight any day.

Please.

Today, he was being tested by his Biology 225 lab partner's sudden need to meet up for the post lab write-up, and apparently because she lived in such _amazing_ proximity to a Starbucks (didn't everyone?), it _obviously_ made sense for them to get together over coffee to do it.

So he just went. Like a trusting, idiotic baby seal. He just went without asking questions.

As they sat at a small table in the overcrowded coffee shop in the West Village with one caramel macchiato and one latte sitting idly on the lacquered wood next to a pile of lab papers, she not-so-subtly made her third pass at getting his social calendar for the next month. Percy wondered why he did these things to himself. _Oh, right,_ he thought, _because I'm a moron. That's why._

It wasn't even like she was an unattractive girl – by any measure, her ebony hair and matching eyes would garner attention from a lot of guys and girls alike. Just… not him. He had a thing for blondes. Well, _blonde_. One in particular.

Jessica patted his arm and he jumped. "You still with me over there?"

 _No. Haven't been with you this whole time._ "Oh, yeah. I'm good."

"Great. So, about next week…"

It was at this exact moment that Percy Jackson knew he needed to exit Stage Right-The-Fuck-Up out of this Starbucks.

 _But how do I excuse myself without being rude,_ he pondered. He knew she was a nice girl, and it wasn't as if she had malicious intent toward him, but yeah. The post lab thing was a no-go.

An idea struck him. Stealthily, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and placed it on his lap so as not to draw attention to it. Percy made sure that Jessica still thought he was involved in the conversation with various "mm-hm"'s and "okay"'s at places he could only hope were appropriate breaks in the back-and-forth. Well, "back-and-forth" was a generous term for the conversation they were having. Jessica was talking about some party at some penthouse on the Upper West side that she and "her girls" had gone to the past weekend. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be enticing for him in some way? Who knew with girls. Their form of social cues was basically as easy to decode for him as doing Morse Code backwards. It wasn't even really a fault of theirs, he was just hopelessly… what was the word Annabeth liked to use? _Obtuse_.

On the bright side, at least Jessica couldn't hear his inner turmoil with regards to Percy-female interaction. That would be terrifically embarrassing. He was at least partially sure she was still talking about the penthouse.

Without taking his eyes off the paper that they were supposed to be filling in with information about Zebra Fish reproduction (he shuddered to think about the conversation he had had to calm those poor Zebra Fish into believing him when he explained that, no, he wasn't actually a pervert examining their reproductive habits for his own voyeuristic pleasure), the Hero of the Battle of Manhattan did the most courageous thing he could think of: he called his girlfriend for help.

His fingers crafted the message with relative ease after months of sneaking his phone into lectures. _Call me now plz_ , it read.

Annabeth typed. Percy began to sweat uncomfortably as Jessica gave him a toothy smile.

 _Why?_

 _JUST CALL ME PLZ._ He responded.

Sure enough, his phone lit up with a picture of Annabeth on Montauk beach that he had taken that summer. Forgetting himself for a moment, Percy warmed at the sight of it.

"Excuse me," he interrupted Jessica with little remorse. "I've gotta take this."

He spoke into his phone in a loud, exaggeratedly affectionate tone. "Hey, babe!" The word sounded weird and foreign on his tongue and he had to fight off an internal cringe that was quickly becoming external. "What's up?"

 _"Um, I don't know,_ babe _, why don't you tell me?"_ She was making fun of him now; he was sure of it. Fitting.

Percy forced a laugh and immediately thereafter decided that he should never pursue any sort of acting career. "Ha, ha, you're so funny. I'll be home at four. Yep, no need to worry for me!" He heard Annabeth's (offended) scoff from the other end of the call and tried valiantly not to wince. Yep, he was going to get it this time.

Jessica seemed visibly deflated, and Percy felt bad for her, but he was not nearly courageous enough to blatantly turn down a pretty girl's affections. After years of being pointedly ignored by the opposite sex (as well as any gay or questioning boy in his vicinity), he had no idea how to deal with this type of situation. In fact, he was surprised he didn't just have a tattoo on his forehead that read, _I AM NOT EQUIPPED TO TALK TO ANY GIRLS EXCEPT ONES WHO FIGHT MONSTERS_.

Wait. Would that even fit on his forehead? He didn't have, like, a huge head. Maybe if the writing was small…

The more logical side of Percy's brain decided that now was the best time for it to run interference on this particular thought bubble of stupidity. Can you say, "ADHD"?

"Well, see you later!" He called into the phone, the elastic smile never leaving his face despite how much trouble he knew he was going to be in when he got back to the loft. "Love you!"

 _"Now, you wait just a second, Percy Jackson–"_ gods. She might actually kill him this time.

Percy turned his attention to Jessica; she was texting someone with Olympic speed, her fingernails tapping on the glass screen in rapid succession. "Sorry, my girlfriend was wondering where I was. Are we about ready to finish up?"

Jessica whipped her head toward him with a blinding smile that was just about as fake as the one he had been wearing just a few seconds ago. "Yep!"

Well, now Percy felt like an asshole. He could see that she was at least mildly hurt by his interruption (and it made it worse that it was his girlfriend, he was sure), but she was putting on a brave face to keep any suspicion away from herself. So she wasn't vapid at all, like he had previously concluded as she rambled on about some exclusive club in Midtown. He was just a fucking idiot.

Per usual.

He moved to say something, but Jessica was already packing up her things and grabbing her caramel macchiato with a grace that only practiced multitaskers could ever achieve. "I think we've gotten all the partner things done today, which was great," she murmured as she tucked a stray piece of black hair behind her ear, "so we can just finish up the rest on Google Drive from home and sent it in on Monday! Perfect."

"Jessica, wait—" But she was already rushing out of the Starbucks with her folders tucked under her arms and her sunglasses propped on her hairline like a true Manhattan socialite, leaving Percy stunned at the small table with his mouth hanging open.

Well, shit. Percy let his head drop onto the wooden table with a _thunk_ before bringing it up again to repeatedly drop it back down in an act of flustered self-flagellation. When was he going to learn how to not offend girls, even when trying to be nice? CCNY had no courses on this topic, he thought, which was something he'd be writing an angrily worded letter about later in the evening. Even when he tried to subtly give hints that he was taken, or even just flat-out tell girls that he wasn't interested, he'd end up hurting their feelings (which was the last thing he wanted to do).

Percy sighed as he, too, gathered up his materials. He'd have to gauge how Jessica was feeling when they got back to lab on Tuesday. Apparently, what he'd thought had been just a casual pass at hooking up with him was actually somewhat of a long-standing crush on her behalf, which, of course, Percy had been completely oblivious to throughout the three weeks that they had been lab partners. Typical Percy Jackson behavior. Yep, right on par for the course. Just look up "obtuse" in the Merriam Webster and there would be a picture of his stupid face, right smack where the definition should be.

Gods damn it.

The papers he was collecting crinkled audibly as he swept them into a woefully disorganized binder, his head throbbing. Percy could feel his Metro card burning a hole in his pocket, a veritable escape route back to the relative safety of his friends and his apartment. One of them would have some advice about the situation, he was sure. They had to. Right? Out of seven people, at least _one_ of them had to have some sort of useful advice to give him about girls.

Just… not Leo.

His strides were long and purposeful as he made his way out of the Starbucks and onto the busy Manhattan street. The subway stop was only a few blocks away, so he would have ample time to mentally face-palm until he had to swipe his Metro card into the turnstile. As he walked, he was wary of any passersby that looked at him for too long or seemed just a _little_ out of place, aware of the fact that while the Gods had granted them a gift in the form of an apartment in Lincoln Center that was functionally monster-proofed, the rest of the island of Manhattan did not follow suit. He'd had a limited number of encounters with monsters since Gaea's attack on camp two years ago, with most of them retreating back into whatever cave they had crawled out of after the campers' victory. That didn't mean there weren't still monsters lurking, though. Not even by a long shot.

Despite this, Percy made it to the Subway stop without incident and boarded his train in a spectacularly dramatic fury of flailing limbs and ungraceful yelping for someone to hold the door (despite his New York upbringing informing him that no one would ever hold the door for him). He was breathing hard as he sat down and counted the stops until he made it back to Lincoln Center.

There was one thought that ran through his head on a film noir-like loop: _I cannot wait to get back to my apartment_.

* * *

The prospect of getting back to his apartment probably shouldn't have been his idea of a sanctuary. Yeah, that was a grand miscalculation.

Percy walked in through the large industrial door of the loft and was greeted by a rolled-up newspaper swatting at his head like he was a misbehaving Dobermann Pinscher. Yelping, he threw his hands up in defense of the enemy fire and swore in alternating languages as his attacker continued to smack his cranium with the practiced efficiency of either a professional hit-man or his girlfriend.

 _"You—do—not—use—me—as—a—scapegoat!"_

Oh, right. He had almost forgotten that he had just used Annabeth as a copout method in order to avoid a girl asking him out. It was a good thing that she was there to remind him using both her words and yesterday's New York Times travel section. She continued to swat at him with no signs of stopping (despite his repeated pleas and exclamations of pain), right up until Jason appeared next to her and plucked the newspaper from her right hand.

"Annabeth," the son of Jupiter started, holding the newspaper in an arm stretched skyward and out of her reach, "I think he gets it. For real. Honestly, I think we _all_ get it."

Percy peeked through the arms he still had poised to protect his head (like a true Greek Hero) around the loft's living room, making uncomfortable eye contact with the rest of his roommates. They were all looking at the exchange with either terror, amusement, or some weird hybrid of the two. Percy glanced at Nico as the son of Hades mouthed _what the fuck_ very obviously in his direction, but he looked away quickly because his attention was being drawn elsewhere. Namely, at his girlfriend who had now switched up tactics from Death by Newspaper to Rapid-Fire Old Fashioned Bitch-Slapping.

" _Ouch!_ Gods dammit, Annabeth!"

Probably not the best to response to a show of righteous indignation. Annabeth's eyes flared silver, steeled and dangerous, as she lowered her weapons (hands) not in a show of surrender, but the calm before the storm of the vicious tongue-lashing he was about to receive. Could Percy Jackson ever win?

No, probably not.

Anyway.

"Oh-h-h," exhaled Annabeth in the same way that sometimes silence is much scarier than cacophonous noise, "you do _not_ get to swear at me, Percy Jackson. Not when you _called me in the middle of work in order to stop a random girl from asking you out_."

The good news? He no longer needed to explain to Nico what had happened. The bad news? The only reason Percy knew this is because he could hear the son of Hades cackling wildly from the dining table ( _"Oh my GODS, he is a fucking moron!"_ ). Percy looked back at Annabeth and, through his eyes alone, tried to convey to her all of the emotions he was feeling that accumulated into _Annabeth I really, really do not want to deal with this right now_. And, as she always did and would always continue to do, she got the message immediately and bit her tongue before the next wave of rebukes left her lips. She placed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight to her back foot, posed outwardly to match her inward impatience.

"Well?"

Seeing that he now had freedom to move without the threat of impending bitch-slapping, Percy slumped down onto the nearest couch and laid his head back, neck outstretched as he groaned audibly. The rest of the room appraised him with eyebrows raised but said nothing.

"I thought this girl was just making a pass at hooking up with me, but… Nope. She actually had a thing for me."

Annabeth's eyebrows jumped due north toward her hairline. Percy knew that she wasn't getting jealous, or resentful, but she was thinking about how the phone call she had previously mentioned would have gone over with a girl who actually harbored long-standing feelings for her boyfriend. The cogs turned in her brain and Percy saw the moment she realized how bad it would have looked to Jessica.

She sighed and walked over to place her hand in Percy's hair. "Oh, Perce…"

"Yeah, so now I feel like shit."

Annabeth made a " _tsk_ " sound of reproach at his self-deprecating remark and Percy leaned gratefully into her touch as she combed her fingers affectionately through his midnight tresses. The weariness of his pent-up guilt fled from his shoulders and he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face as he took in the silence of the room. It seemed that none of the heroes of the Battle against Gaea could solve a problem as great as an offended mortal girl.

"Percy…" Annabeth tried to reassure him with a whisper of his name, but he was adamant in his regret and would not be shaken of it. Percy knew that she was aware of this, having recognized it from previous experience. He heard her sigh from beside him.

"Well, the girls and I are going out to Señor Frog's, so we'll be back late. Please, _please_ try to stop wallowing by the time I'm back, okay?" There was a playful edge to her tone that let Percy know that she knew he'd be out of his funk by the time she returned.

He grinned wryly into his palms. "Yeah, sure. Have a good time, babe. Try not to fight anyone this time."

"Hey, I'm not responsible for the repercussions of a stupid remark about women in politics. It's that guy's fault for not holding his idiotic tongue."

Percy was smiling unabashedly now and looked up just in time for Annabeth to swoop down and plant a soft, meaningful kiss on his lips. He could hear Piper's _aww_ from across the room.

As she pulled away, Annabeth placed her lips just a breath away from his ear and whispered, "There's nothing you could have done, Percy. Any way you let her down was going to be painful for her. I know how much you hate hurting people, but nothing about this was your fault. You didn't know, baby."

Percy's eyes slid shut of their own accord at her proximity alone, but he could feel the last vestiges of his wariness sliding out of his body as she spoke and thus his entire being relaxed visibly. She always knew the exact right thing to say to him in these situations, the ones where he felt like everything he said or did was just completely wrong. A wave of gratefulness swept over him like a rising tide and he blindly lifted his hand to cup her cheek, eyes still closed, before nodding his thanks against her forehead.

The gods only knew what he would do without her.

Annabeth left him with a parting whisper of affection and gathered her purse from beside the couch. She called out to the rest of the girls in the loft and they quickly shuffled forward towards the door as if the faster they moved, the less intrusive they would seem to the couple's private moment. Percy's eyes only opened with the _thud_ of the door shutting, flickering around the room to the faces of its remaining occupants. He could hear someone shuffling around the cupboards in the kitchen. He determined that it must be Leo after performing a mental headcount of those left visible to him.

An audible _clink_ of glass hitting glass echoed throughout the spacious apartment. Percy's eyes once again slid shut, although this time not because of any sort of sense of calm.

"The girls are gone, y'all, you know what _that_ means?" Leo's voice resounded from the kitchen.

Percy didn't even have to open his eyes to look at the boy to know the answer. "You're holding the fifth of whiskey, aren't you."

"You bet your _water-logged ass_ I am."

* * *

"—But they don't say what they _mean_ to say, they say what you _think_ they mean to say, even if the thing that they're saying isn't what they'll say that they were saying. Do you get what I'm saying?"

Leo squinted at Percy from the loveseat he was sharing with Jason, a calculating frown plastered onto his face. A soft, jazzy refrain from the newest Mac Miller album filled the negative spaces between their conversation. "Percy," he started slowly with a hint of a slur, "I think that is the _smartest fucking thing_ you have ever said in your _gods-forsaken life_."

"I _know!_ "

"Girls, man," Leo let out a low whistle, "they're, like… math problems. But I can figure out math problems. But I can't figure out girls. So… I guess they're not really that much like math problems, actually."

Jason looked up suddenly with a bleary-eyed expression as if someone had abruptly summoned him into the conversation. "Whazzat?"

"Dude. Percy's, like, explaining _girls_."

This caught Jason's attention. Percy eyed him as the son of Jupiter steadied himself for what Percy was _absolutely_ sure to be an incredibly eloquent, well-thought out contribution.

"Oh… who the fuck knows with them, my man. Shit."

 _Genius_.

A sudden flurry of movement caught Percy's eye and he looked over to where Nico and Frank were sitting at the dining room table. Or, rather, had been sitting. Nico was still there, nursing a blunt that even Percy's alcohol-addled brain knew he definitely should have taken away from him a half hour ago, but now the olive-skinned boy was staring wide-eyed and frozen at the creature occupying the seat opposite him.

Holy shit, was that a _sloth_?

It took Percy's entire focus and an admirable amount of mental energy to remember that Frank had the ability to shapeshift into different animals at will. What a guy. A soft chuckle escaped Percy's lips as he continued to examine the situation in detail. There was Nico, like he normally was… and there was a sloth. Frank was a sloth. Frank: large, playful, straight-and-narrow Frank had ingested enough whiskey that the best course of action he could think of for the rest of the night was to turn into a slow and lethargic mammal. A _sloth._

The idea that Frank would willingly turn into a sloth after a few (more accurately: a _lot_ ) of drinks was so hysterical to Percy, in fact, that he broke out into gut-wrenching, wheezing laughter at the sight. His friend was a fucking _sloth_.

Leo began to grin at the sight of Percy's jovial display. "Bro, what the shit is so funny?"

"Yo," Percy gasped between bouts of laughter and raised his hand to point at the creature sitting in a loose recline at their dining room table, "dude, Frank's a sloth!"

Leo and Jason whipped their heads around to the dining room table and, upon the recognition of Frank's new look, joined Percy in his belly-laughter. Frank the Sloth realized (at the speed that any sloth can realize anything, which was apparently a lot slower than originally expected) that he was the target of the three boys' laughter, apparently, because he did the one thing that could possibly have made the situation more ridiculous than four half-bloods sitting in an apartment in Manhattan, drinking whiskey and laughing at the sloth that was currently occupying the space that should have been another half-blood.

With the comical lack of speed that only a sloth could achieve coupled with an expression of substance-aided tranquility, Frank the Sloth raised his right arm and used his furry fingers to curl his paw into a completely recognizable little peace sign.

The room erupted into laughter once more. Percy had tears streaming down his face and made no effort to stop them; Jason had his head thrown back onto the couch at such an angle that if he had opened his eyes, he would have been looking upside-down at the wall behind him; Leo had somehow fallen off the loveseat and onto the wood floor, his arms grabbing at his sides as he was stitched with howls of amusement.

Nico, however, had apparently slipped into the paranoia-and-non-comprehension stage of his smoke break. While the other boys were reveling in their newfound temporary pet, Nico's head was slowly turning toward them. His face was marred by a look of pure horror.

At a decibel so low that not even the Frank the Temporary Sloth could hear him, he whispered, "I… I don't understand how that happened…"

Of course, the only thing funnier to Percy than a sloth sitting at his dining room table was the fact that his younger friend seemed to be deathly afraid of said sloth and refused to make eye contact with it. This sent him deeper into peals of laughter; undoubtedly the least helpful thing he could have been doing in that period of time.

The tears slowly stopped coming down Percy's face and his ribs gradually began to cease their aching. He let out the last few giggles at the image so vividly framed in his brain as he settled back into the couch, arms outstretched and feet resting comfortably on the floor. For the second time that day, his eyes slipped closed and a feeling of calm spread over him like prickles of sunlight peeking through the leaves on a Central Park morning – a slow buildup of dotted sensation that ultimately strengthened into a warm blanket of the orange glow.

Percy's last waking thought that night was of how a sloth might deal with rejecting a pretty girl. _Probably pretty slowly_.

* * *

It was at least three hours later that a consistent poke in his left shoulder caused the Hero of Manhattan to jolt awake, blurting out random phrases about zoo animals and marijuana as he came to.

Vision swimming slightly, he recognized both the scent and sight of blonde princess curls apparent in front of his face. "Hey, 'Beth."

"How drunk are you right now?"

"Drunk enough to tell you that you're really, really pretty. Not drunk enough to try and kiss you, though. Whiskey breath sucks."

Apparently, this answer was satisfactory. Annabeth's laugh (a symphony of tinkling bells and harmonious lyre notes to Percy's ears) reverberated in his ears and brought a slow smile to his face. He reached out to grab her arm and she allowed herself to be pulled down into his lap. Not unlike a lovesick cat, he nuzzled his head into her neck and purred.

"So," he heard her ask with the sing-song voice of a woman who's on the verge of laughter, "care to explain why Calypso just called me and told me that she had four new voicemails from Leo, demanding to know why she said things that she would 'later say she didn't say even though she said them'?"

Percy groaned. No one should ever allow Leo near a phone after he had consumed any variant of alcohol. "Later," he replied. She just shook her head and laid herself more comfortably into the couch. Percy's arms wound around her waist in a lazy way that he only used when they were about to go to sleep.

"Oh, my gods, Percy. You can't even move back up to our room. You're like a freaking sloth!"

Percy's eyes shot open as the memories hit him.

Oh gods.

 _Frank_.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reviewing last time, I would really appreciate it if you could again!**

 **\- And thanks to AnnaUnicorn for your thoughtful review about whether or not the Heroes would drink underage. The concept** **is incredibly nuanced; I've learned that there is a healthy and unhealthy way to drink alcohol at the ages of 18+ from living for a while in the UK, where that is the drinking age. And for the Gabe Ugliano reference, it is never explicitly said that Gabe was a heavy drinker. We can infer that - I'm sure many people do. But this being said, there are many ways to cope with the legacy of people who have negatively impacted us in any way, and one of those is to deal with aspects of their life in a way that is new and unhindered by their memory. This is how I think Percy deals with the idea that both he and Gabe drink - barring, of course, the fact that Percy is not someone with an addictive personality and it seemed like Gabe definitely was. If you're in college or close to college-age, it is essential to be educated about alcohol. Let it be known I am in no way encouraging underage drinking, but it is something present in University culture and it is important to acknowledge it as so.**

 **\- Another note: what would you like to see next? We've exhausted the "drunk college kids" plot a bit now so I might wait on seeing the girls drunk, but I'm still in the market to explore Annabeth's stress-related anxiety or a potential monster attack in an upcoming chapter (we saw the introduction of that here). Let me know!**

 **With love,**

 **~Summer Sunrises**


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